There are these invisible bruises where your skin used to touch mine.
Bruise where my thighs and knees meet, on eyelashes and the soles on both feet.
The branches of capillaries under my skin moan and gasp in withdrawal of the warmth that is you,
Was you.
Instead of coming to the surface in violets and blues,
They violently cut through me, submerge past my flesh into the depths of me,
And into where my soul used to be.
Invisible bruises are the worst variation,
Because no one can see them so no one can explain the pain running down my face
In the middle of the day.
No one understands the shakes in my hands
As I try to pray for this all to be erased.
You must be made of lead because when I used to kiss you my lungs would fill with a heavy liquid,
And days after I  felt poisoned of the fatal kind.
Sometimes, I wish I were blind so that my eyes couldn't have fallen upon you,
Couldn't have absorbed you and saved you for future dreams.
If I were blind then I wouldn't believe in love at first sight,
The moment I saw you I was reborn-then died.